he is standing like a mosquethe noise of prayer blowing out of him in steady whispers. the sun iscolouring itself on his skin, mighty hues of purplish..
Who is wild with keeness?A liquified sense of danger?,To reach high enough to pluck a star from its dreams?Alive with nothing but smokeAnd a drunken h..
I wrote you yesterday,strung these words into song.until my balladry began to breathe the same airsthat swam your glorious lungs.And with that, I coul..
The cause remainsStill.But the voice has gathered tenor.A strange cantus firmus.Like influenza.Now the proselytizers itch.Because their hands cannot l..